The Cordial
by Aslan's Lamb
Summary: What if Lucy brought the cordial with her into England after VODT, kept it and had it with her when the railway accident happened? Would it have made a difference? Rated T for character death.


**The Voyage of the Dawn Treader doesn't explain where Lucy's cordial went when she returned to England for the third time. The cordial is never mentioned again. I've always assumed that it disappeared during the jump through worlds, sort of like Dorothy's ruby slippers. But it seemed like a pity. ****And then I thought...what if Lucy brought it with her into England and kept it until the very end? **

**********Rated T for character death. ****I'm not a _very_ graphic writer. But. This_ is_ slightly more violent than the pieces I've posted before. You have been warned.**

* * *

The first thing May felt when she slipped back into consciousness was the pain in her left arm. The pain was strong, insistent, growing. May tried to take a breath and it came out as a sob.

The air was hot and heavy and smelled terrible.

_Dear God, what happened? _

She remembered the train ride. She had started a conversation with a yellow-haired girl in her late teens, a girl who kept on wondering _when _they would finally get there, much to the amusement of her older brother who sat beside her.

The pain came again.

She needed help. She needed someone to stop the pain. Maybe if she opened her eyes she would see someone who could help. May forced her tear-filled eyes to open. The world spun for a moment. When the dizziness passed, she saw the grey ceiling of the train, although it was all slanted and wrong-looking. She turned her head to the left…and saw the yellow haired girl slumped on the floor with her body in a strange position and her eyes partially closed. She wasn't breathing.

_There was a railway accident._

The world spun again. May leaned back and closed her eyes.

Someone would come and help her. Someone _had_ to come eventually. "Someone will come," she whispered to herself.

And she began to sob because her arm hurt and because she was scared and because the friendly yellow-haired girl was dead. And she was terrified she would die too.

"Dear God, help me," she whispered. "Please, don't let me die."

Her mouth was dry. She was so thirsty.

May grabbed hold of that thought. If she could just keep thinking that she was thirsty, maybe she wouldn't think about the pain so much. Maybe if she started looking for water, the task would keep her occupied...She turned her head to the right, slowly so she wouldn't grow dizzy again, and saw two travelling bags. Her own and the girl's. Spattered with something dark red.

May closed her eyes again.

_Thirsty._

She opened them. Maybe the girl had brought water with her. Maybe. May tried to move her right arm. It seemed to be all right. She rolled onto her right side and leaned on her right arm. With an effort, she sat up and waited for the dizziness to come and go. Then she reached for the girl's bag with her right arm, careful not to touch the spots of red.

Slowly, clumsily, she explored the contents of the bag, taking them out and placing them on the floor. Some clothing, a few handkerchiefs. A Bible. a notebook that said "Lucy Pevensie" on the front.

Her left arm screamed with pain.

She cried out, weeping because of the pain but also weeping for this girl she barely knew, this Lucy who couldn't wait to get there and had owned these things only a few hours ago. But now this Lucy felt nothing, owned nothing and a stranger was looking through her bag.

Suddenly, May's hand closed around something that was shaped like a small bottle. It was carefully wrapped in a blue cloth, which was tied into a knot.

_Thirsty._

Maybe there was water in the bottle. Maybe. She placed it on the floor in an upright position. Her fingers clumsily poked and tugged at the knot. Luckily, it wasn't very tight. With some effort, she undid it and the blanket began to slip off, yes, yes...

And then she saw that the few drops of liquid in the bottle were cranberry red.

She nearly pushed it over from disappointment. It wasn't water. Who knew what it was? It could be cough syrup. Or maybe it wasn't even for drinking. It could be perfume.

Her arm hurt.

_Thirsty. _

What if nobody came?

Her arm!

Why wasn't anybody coming?

"Dear God,_______________________please_!" 

_________________________Thirsty._

The cranberry red liquid sparkled inside the bottle.

She couldn't drink something not knowing what it was, she told herself.

_Thirsty._

She held out for a few more minutes. Then she began to feel as if the slanted gray ceiling was pressing down on her, and she began to cough and thought she would choke to death if she didn't get a drink and she began to desperately twist the cap off the bottle with her right hand. It came off easily. I don't care what happens, May thought, and brought the bottle to her lips. She drank until the bottle was empty.

The liquid was sweeter than sweetened berry juice and fresher than fresh water.

The pain in her left arm was suddenly gone.

May gasped out loud at the enormously sweet relief of feeling _nothing_ at all. When you are in pain, there is no better feeling than that. She didn't wonder why the pain went away. She just closed her eyes and fell into an exhausted and frightened sleep.

* * *

At the hospital, they did not find a single injury.

They called it a miracle. They asked her if she wanted to keep the blouse she had worn during the accident. The sleeve had been soaked with blood and there would always be a reddish tinge to it. She said she wanted to keep it. To remember. They made sure she could think, speak, remember things and sent her home to her family. Her family also called it a miracle.

So did she. And she was happy. And she was grateful. But she lay awake at nights and tried to remember the yellow-haired girl's name. And she never could.


End file.
